Rat Patrol ficlet - Forfeit
In one of the episodes, Hitchcock was talking to Troy and said something about how they had "put it on the line" for him.
There is some Hitch torture in this, so grab a box of kleenex. As usual, this is a work in progress, feel free to poke the muse, she loves to have comments.
Click on the cut to read.
“What do you mean ‘leave him’?” Troy leaned across the table, “They’ll execute him.”
“We cannot authorize a unit to go in and retrieve him.” Colonel Harmon glared, “It’s too risky. They will be on alert now that they’ve caught the saboteur.”
Troy’s jaw clenched and he glared at the colonel.
“Dismissed sergeant.”
Troy stood, snapped a salute and turned on his heel, anger quickening his steps. Tully and Cotton met him on the steps outside.
“Well, when do we go?” Cotton asked.
“We don’t,” Troy snapped.
“Sir?”
“They said they wouldn’t authorize a rescue team.”
“They’re just gonna leave him?”
“They are.” Troy threw himself into the jeep, “I’m not.”
Tully slid behind the wheel, grinning, “I’ve got the jeep tuned up and ready to go.”
“And I’ve resupplied us with ammo and explosives.” Cotton said from his place in the back.
“I can’t ask you to go with me on this.” Troy said grimly as they pulled out into the street.
“Ya don’t have ta ask.” Tully drawled.
“We’re not leaving Mark high and dry.”
“Let’s shake it.”
It was meant to be a simple mission, lay out the explosives, set them off destroying the cache of weapons and fuel the Germans had hidden in the innocuous looking hut and be on their way before anyone knew what was happening. It didn’t work out quite that way though.
It seemed as though anything that could go wrong, did, and with the worst possible outcome.
Sergeant Parsons literally ran right into the young German guarding the hut, the bayonet on the German rifle severing the sergeant’s femoral artery. Private LePaige had immediately panicked and began firing at anything that moved, this had brought the unwanted attention of the two Germans in the half-track, one of them swung the 50 caliber toward them, the resulting rounds had removed LePaige’s brain from his head in a shower of blood and bone that coated the side of Hitch’s face. A bullet struck him in the leg, and he dropped to the sand clutching at his knee and cursing the colonel who had assigned him to this temporary team.
The German doctor had removed the bullet and sewed him up, even going so far as to give him a shot for the pain. Of course, the medication had worn off a couple of hours later and the doc was not allowed to help him after his interrogation.
He would give almost anything for a little bit of water and a towel right now. Sweat stung the cuts, but it did little to remove the blood from his face. He supposed he was fortunate that the majority of the blood crusting his face was not his own.
“You will tell me how you found out about our operation. Where is the rest of your team?”
“I don't know what you're talking about. I'm all that's left, you killed the others.”
The German punched Mark in the mouth, splitting his lip.
“Where are they?”
Mark spat, barely missing the captain's polished boots. “I told you, there were only three of us.”
“You expect me to believe that your commander sent only three men to take out my weapons cache?”
“I told you, I don't know what you're talking about.”
Captain Weintraub smiled, “You will beg for the opportunity to tell me everything you know.”
He nodded to the guards on either side of Hitchcock.
They yanked the American to his feet.
“The time for games is over; your foolish bravado has brought you to a very dark place. If you tell me what I want to know right now I can …”
“I don't know anything about your troops. There were only three of us.”
“Very well then.”
Mark's bound hands were attached to a winch and he was lifted by his arms until his feet barely touched the ground.
Using the knife confiscated from Hitch, one of the guards cut Hitchcock's shirt off.
The captain stepped in front of Hitch. “Last chance.”
Hitchcock was stubbornly silent.
The first strike knocked a startled gasp from his pursed lips.
“Now that wasn't so bad was it?” Weintraub smirked. “On average, it takes 12 hits before the pain gets bad enough to elicit a scream.”
By the fifth hit, Mark was clenching his teeth.
“Are you curious about what is causing you such pain?” The captain held out his hand and one of the guards passed him a couple of items. Weintraub held one of the items to Mark's face. “You see, its just bamboo. When struck against bare skin, it causes some rather extensive bruising. Slits are cut in the sides of the stalks but it doesn't break open until it’s been used for a while.” He showed Mark the other piece. “Then it breaks open and the edges tear into the flesh. Interesting, yes? Where is the rest of your team?”
“Go... suck ...a...lemon.” Mark panted.
He screamed as Weintraub slammed the shattered bamboo across his stomach.
Weintraub inhaled deeply, visibly trying to rein in his anger. “Do not stop until he tells where the others are, but do not kill him. If he dies, so do you.”